


Behind the Mask

by RowanandKatrina



Category: Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst and Drama, Backstory, Character Study, Gen, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Original Character(s), Pre-Canon, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22838098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowanandKatrina/pseuds/RowanandKatrina
Summary: What if one member of Scarlemagne's army learned to resist his control on her own...before Kipo came to the surface?
Comments: 60
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There will be season 1 & 2 spoilers! Including in this note. 
> 
> I started posting this fic back in March 2020, when only season 1 was out. The original concept was that one of Scarlemagne's nobles meets a little water bear mute who can protect her from the mandrill's control. Since season 2's been released and the general concept is now canon (which was a crazy exciting thing to watch!), this fic is more origin story than anything else, but I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Some of my chapter rearranging sadly reset the original "published" date on all my chapters, but you can see from the comments which date each chapter originally came out.

**Thirteen years ago…**

Perhaps if Hugo had arrived on the surface and found a friend right away, his life might have still turned out differently.

No, not even a friend. If he had arrived to find various mutes who were simply willing to live and let live...well, he might have been lonely in that case but not terrified. He wouldn't have run screaming from every tiny noise. He wouldn't have been so desperate.

Instead he spent days seeking what little food and water he could get. Several times he tried returning to sleep at the dilapidated store where he'd found the star-patterned paper--the closest thing he had to a reminder of home. When the screeching, massive, two-headed bird returned, he gave up on trying to come back and focused only on venturing as far from danger as he could. Staying hydrated was the most difficult task. After a day of walking, when he finally found a water fountain that functioned, he didn't question for a moment how it worked. After all, everything back in his burrow had worked just fine, and it was much more advanced technology than this. Much of the surface was in ruins, but surely it wasn't odd to find the occasional working machine. The old store had still had the paper after all…

As Hugo quenched his thirst, he noticed the water tasted a bit strange. Quite suddenly, the bowl of the fountain filled up from the drain, and water began to spill over the sides. Hugo gasped and backed up. What had he found now?

The water kept coming, only now it rose up of its own accord into some kind of shape…

"A-a mute?" Hugo gasped.

The creature towered over him, looking vaguely like an oversized blue pill bug. It waved its stubby claws in greeting. "Well, hello there, traveler. Who do I have the pleasure of addressing this fine day?"

"U-uh...I'm H-hugo," Hugo managed to stutter out. Every instinct he had told him to run. This mute was far larger than him, and he had no way to defend himself. No reason to think he could bargain with it, either. Yet his feet remain firmly planted on the soggy ground.

"Greetings, Hugo. My name is Tad Mulholland. I'm here to be your guide on a special journey through your perfect fantasy."

"Um, no thank you," Hugo said, trying to back away, only for the strange creature to shift forms into a liquid again, flowing around his legs and rebuilding behind him, blocking his escape.

"Sound too good to be true?" the creature--Tad something--asked. "I understand. But it's really no trouble at all. Especially since…" Here Tad did a poor job of stifling a giggle. "...you just drank me," he finished.

Hugo had the sudden and horrifying sensation of every memory of his childhood being pilfered like a ransacked bookshelf. No thought, recollection, or emotion was secure. Everything was being laid out for this massive mute's perusal.

"Interesting...Fascinating..."

Hugo clutched the sides of his head. "Y-you stay out of my mind! Those memories...they're not yours to see!" He tried to say it aggressively, assert his dominance over the strange creature, as he'd seen the other mutes do who didn't get pushed around.

But Tad's deep voice only chuckled softly--this time coming from right inside Hugo's own mind. _Oh, now, now. I can't make a beautiful dream for you if I have no material to work with. Now...let me see here…_

Hugo had the sudden sensation of a hot liquid oozing into brain, of tiny hands riffling through his deepest secrets and most desperate longings. But as had happened so many times up here on the surface, Tad ignored every plea to stop and helped himself to every private thought. Hugo felt the mute's mood grow heavy at what he found.

_Oh, dear. So much hurt. And so much abandonment. Yes, I've got the perfect dream for you…_

Hugo squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. The sounds about him faded, and for the briefest moment, there was total, unnerving silence. Then another noise started up--the whir of a machine...the pounding of footsteps that were neither approaching nor retreating...someone panting…

The treadmill? In the lab? Hugo held himself as he shook with fear. What was it the strange mute had said about a beautiful dream? This was a nightmare!

"Come on, Dr. Emilia," said Lio's voice. "Run faster. Don't you want to know how it felt? Run faster."

Cautiously, Hugo opened his eyes. To his astonishment, he was back in the lab. Everything was intact, and in the awful glass prison that Dr. Emilia had trapped him in...now _she_ was running, panting, and sweating.

"I'm...sorry…" she managed to say through her heavy breaths. "I...understand now. I was wrong. I am a very bad person...and I am so sorry!"

Lio gave a hearty laugh before pressing a button on the enclosure that both made the treadmill stop and a glass of water appear out of a compartment for Dr. Emilia. She grabbed it and began taking large gulps.

"Thank you, Dr. Oak!" she said, giving him a thumbs up and a wide smile. "You have shown me the error of my ways! I am going to sit in here a while and contemplate a better path in life."

"I think that's quite wise, Dr. Emilia," Lio said. "I'll leave you to it." Then he turned his back on her so he could face Hugo. "You doing okay there, buddy? You look nervous."

Hugo rubbed his hands. He did feel nervous and yet he couldn't explain why. If he backtracked the events of the last few days, they were jumbled together. He was sure the glass enclosure had shattered...that he'd been hurt. Yet as he brought his hands to his face, there were no scars or gashes there. Perhaps the glass shattering had been a bad dream?

"It's because we're finally going to the surface, isn't it?" Lio asked. "Don't worry. We'll be safe as long as we're all together." He started to walk towards their quarters.

Hugo panicked and grabbed Lio's arm. "B-but the guards! They'll see us leaving. They'll catch us!"

"You mean the guards who all ran crying for their mommies after you used your pheromones on them?" Lio laughed. "I don't think they'll bother us."

"I did?" Hugo didn't remember doing this. Then again, it wasn't like Lio to lie. Especially when the topic was so serious. Before he could press the issue, something more urgent occurred to him. "Where's Song? Is she okay? Did she have the baby yet?"

"No, not quite yet," said Lio. "But we've got all the medical equipment we need thanks to Dr. Emilia's generous donation." He gave Hugo a wink. They were halfway down the hall now. He could see the door to their quarters from here.

Hugo stayed silent for a long while before he finally spoke his mind. "But...you said using my powers was wrong."

Lio paused in front of their door and rubbed the back of his head. "Look, Hugo. I know what I said. But the thing is...I was just scared. Scared of what you could do. But now I realize it was a silly feeling to have." He placed a hand on Hugo's shoulder. "The only thing that's wrong is ignoring what makes you special. Superior, really. Those guards ran because you're better than them, Hugo. You always have been."

The look of pride that Lio gave Hugo was one he'd longed to see for a long time. He saw it the first time when he said his name. Again when he read his first book. Again when he composed his first song. How warm and comforting it felt to see that expression bestowed on him again. "Are there any other primates being kept in the labs?" he said excitedly. "We could release them. They could help guard Song while she has the baby."

"That's a great idea!" Lio said as he opened the door. "Song? Honey, Hugo's just had the best idea!"

"Coming!" Song called from the bedroom. "I'm just packing the last of the baby's things. Hugo made her a new blanket, remember?"

Hugo smiled. Yes, he did remember doing that...how could he have forgotten?

Lio asked him to stand guard while they finished the packing. Hugo stood by the door, basking in pride. Everything was perfect…he had saved his family. They loved him. He and his parents and new little sister...they would escape to the surface thanks to him. Yes, they would always be togeth--

_Crash!_

"Oh, dear…" came the baritone voice of Tad Mulholland, distant and far away. It almost sounded like an echo. "I do get excited. Now I've gone and broken that old fountain...have to get a new one…"

"A crash…?" Hugo said aloud. Song and Lio did not hear him, busy as they were packing in the next room. He thought he heard Lio humming, but…

That crash. He'd heard another one like it not long ago. No, it had been more than a crash then. It had been an explosion. He'd called for help, but no one came. No one looked for him. No one...

A splitting pain seared across Hugo's head. _Broken...shattered…_

This wasn't right. It wasn't reality. This mute was showing him a dream he wanted to see. If he stayed here, he could live that dream forever. If he woke up, it would be to a world where he'd stayed trapped, running at Dr. Emilia's command until the whole place exploded around him.

A world where Lio and Song never came for him. Where his trust in family was just as shattered as the glass.

 _I won't live in a dream!_ Hugo promised himself. _I'll be stronger than that!_

His eyes flung open. He was laying in a pool of water with Tad Mulholland looming over him and looking thoroughly shocked. Before the huge mute could react, Hugo dove for dry land. When he pulled himself onto the grass, he coughed and gagged until the strange water he'd swallowed earlier was forced out of his throat.

"Wait!" Tad called. "Don't leave, traveler! I'll make your dream even better! How about I turn Dr. Emilia into a bunny? Or you a mega-mute? No one would ever hurt you then. Oh, wait! I could make your whole family mega-mutes!"

Hugo didn't listen. He ran as fast as he could, hoping to never see the strange creature again. When he'd run as far as he could, he collapsed against a tree. Tad did not seem to have given chase. And why would he need to? When he could so easily overpower anything that came his way, there was no reason to exert such energy. _I will be stronger_ , Hugo promised himself. _No one will ever hurt me again. But it won't be in your pitiful dream world. It will be the reality I make for myself!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Scarlemagne's palace in Las Vistas, two months before Kipo's arrival on the surface...**

#

_Mmm...your brain waves taste nummy tonight..._

Isla hung her mask in its usual spot above her pillow. If she had her way, she would have burned the thing, but that would let the timber-cat out of the bag faster than anything.

Gee, thanks, she mentally whispered to the voice in her head.

It giggled in response. _He's sleeping. You can relax._

Isla huffed. Just because Scarlemagne was asleep did not mean she could relax. It merely meant that if she slipped up, she'd be caught by one of his lackies and not him directly. Both scenarios would end the same--with her freedom, such as it was, being snatched from her, her mind forced under the same control as every other human.

 _Don't eat too much_ , she warned the voice. She'd dubbed it Wren, after a picture she'd seen of such creatures before mutes existed. Who knew birds could once be so small? Seriously, he's been obsessed with finding the city of underground humans lately. I'm going to need the energy.

 _Oh, okay,_ Wren replied. _So...you should go to sleep and stop talking to me, right?_

Isla stifled a chuckle. _Right_ , she conceded before curling up on the cot she'd been assigned. It was always clean, the small pillow always perfectly in its place, and it was always much less comfortable than it looked. She was fairly sure that wherever Scarlemagne was getting their sleeping supplies from, he had them thoroughly tested for unpleasantness before his human pets were allowed to use them.

Isla lay awake, looking at the domed ceiling above her. Humans on cots to either side of her had already begun to snore. She wanted to believe she wasn't the only one here who wasn't under Scarlemagne's full control. But it wasn't as if she could ask others that question, nor could they ask her. Better to assume she was alone than take the risk. But the thought had occurred to her on more than one occasion; maybe the next time they recruited a human, she could try to save them. Or at least, if possible, give them a way to keep their own will. Like she did because of Wren.

#

Isla had met Wren a few months back. To call Wren a single entity wasn't really accurate, but it was easier to think of the little mute that way. Wren was a collection of tardigrades. When the microorganisms that composed her gathered together, they only took up a space the size of Isla's palm. Isla had actually felt bad for Wren when they first met; the mute had been unable to feed consistently for a long time. As soon as a host creature became aware of Wren's presence, their body tended to reject her. Ilsa's body no doubt would have done the same under normal circumstances. Except, when Scarlemagne found her camp, Isla had a very good reason to want certain brain waves blocked and consumed. And Wren had good reason to want... well, food. Now the tardigrades got a consistent source of energy while Isla maintained her free will. Well, mostly. A strong enough dose of perfume still fogged her mind. More than once, her own desires had been shoved aside, and the thought of dancing around like a fool because Scarlemagne demanded it made her giddy with delight. Every time Isla's head cleared thanks to Wren's intervention, it took everything in her not to vomit.

Her biggest problem now was this--without the scents cluing her mind in to Scarlemagne's wishes, she needed another method to keep up her facade. Thankfully, Wren helped out there, too. The mute informed her when any non-verbal commands passed through it. Or at least, it was supposed to. The last time Scarlemagne clapped for everyone to get into line, Isla had almost missed his cue entirely. The inflated mandrill had ignored it. Someone else had collapsed from exhaustion, and they were much more interesting to berate than her.

She turned to the side, hoping the change of position would finally lull her to sleep. Were things really better for her now? Or was she just torturing herself more than the others? There was no escape from this place. And unlike the other humans, every time she got an order, she had to force herself to obey it or risk uncovering her secret. Some days, being in a mind-controlled fog the rest of her life sounded like a good alternative.

#

 _Snap! Snap! Snap!_ Of course, Scarlemagne could never just say, "Good morning!" or even "Wake up, you lazy bums!" Not when snapping his fingers to get his wishes was so much more effective and fun for him. Isla mourned the loss of a good stretch and a yawn in order to stand straight and give the impression she never got tired at all. The other humans all rose from their cots in the same manner.

"Get ready, my little performers!" Scarlemagne squealed with delight. "I've got word of a new human we can fetch. Isn't that just delightful?" He threw his head back, practically convulsing in his maniacal laughter.

Laugh, whispered Wren, as the room filled with the sound of the humans' pained, forced giggles. Isla did so, perfectly in time with them. Her stomach soured. This was going to be one of those days she hated the most. Then again, perhaps this was the opportunity she had been waiting for. Another unfortunate effect of being under Scarlemagne's influence was that the humans' reaction times were greatly slowed, their brains always forced to contemplate what he would want, rather than what they would want. Isla was at no such disadvantage. If she could find this new human before the rest of them did, she could help them safely escape the area. Scarlemagne would be angry of course, but he'd blame it on their general human incompetence as usual.

Isla hurried to get changed along with the others. Proving moderately competent among Scarlemagne's pets had its advantages. For one, she got sent out on missions more often, which meant less time wearing the movement-restricting, breath-denying monstrosity that was standard dress for the human females under Scarlemagne's watch. Isla had once and only once seen him try to send one of the women on some errand without having her change into a proper riding uniform (or really, anything else) first. The poor lady had fallen on her face and broken her mask in two. Scarlemagne never admitted to doing anything wrong, but his expression as he realized just how physically impossible his request had been was about the closest he'd ever come.

Isla's scouting uniform consisted of a knee-length slit skirt over brick-red slacks. The edge of the bright red fabric had a lace trim to give the feel of her regular dress without being nearly as infuriating. Around her waist, she tied a small pack with a day's worth of rations. The human they were seeking was supposedly a loner--he either never had a group to begin with or had been separated from them. He'd been spotted once not far from Fitness Raccoon territory and then twice more closer to Scarlemagne's court. Tarsier had noticed him; of course, she noticed everything. She was probably the member of Scarlemagne's nobles Isla feared the most. For every time Isla thought of just making a break for it, Tarsier's bulbous green eyes blazed in her mind, and she thought the better of it. There was something on the masks as well that deterred her. A small black spot that wouldn't come off. Isla didn't understand it completely, but Scarlemagne did have some access to old human technology. She'd overheard him call the tiny device embedded in the mask a "tracker bug" once--though it didn't really look like a bug to her. As best she'd been able to surmise, the device wouldn't tell him exactly where she was, but it would alert him if she left his territory without permission or removed the mask during waking hours.

 _If it is a bug, it's a brainless bug_ , Wren informed her. _Nothing yummy coming out of it at all._

 _I see. How terrible for you_. As much as Isla wanted to share in the tragedy that was Wren not getting an extra snack, she had other things to focus on. Scarlemagne had selected two other humans to go on the mission, with Isla as the leader, along with directions to scout out the various points the human had been spotted at. The trio, clad in their bright red uniforms, took off on three equally bright pink flamingos. Scarlemagne's maniacal laughter took a long time to fade behind them.

Riding the birds had certainly taken some getting used to at first. Their soft, smooth feathers were both comfortable to sit on and very easy to slide off of when the bird was in flight. Until Scarlemagne invested in proper saddles, Isla just focused on sitting as straight and balanced as possible.

"Where to first?" the man flying to her left asked, shouting to be heard through his mask. The wind in their faces as they flew through the air didn't really help his communication efforts. Isla released one hand from the veins and signaled where the man was to head first.

After carefully reviewing the human's most obvious tracks, her plan was to send her two brainwashed comrades traveling the least-likely-to-be-successful directions. Meanwhile, she would follow the human's strongest trail. She watched the other two flamingos flap out of sight and smiled beneath her mask. So far so good. For the first time in a long while, the smile beneath her mask wasn't entirely fake.


	3. Chapter 3

The first place the footprints led looked like a swamp of some kind. Not as much greenery as one would think, but shallow water covered the area, creating puddles in patches of concrete and rusting the dilapidated fences. Oddly enough, there was an old water fountain sitting here. No, wait. Make that two water fountains. One bore a large crack in the side and had toppled over while the other stood nearby it, looking strong and new. The flamingo flew close to the water's surface, opening its beak for a quick drink as it flew by, but Isla tugged on its reins, urging it away. 

"Don't," she warned the bird. "This doesn't look safe. We'll find somewhere else you can get a drink." The flamingos never did listen too well, and right now was no exception. Instead of flying on, the bird landed in the water. A strange scent, or maybe it was more of a feeling, erupted when its feet broke the surface. Although the water only came up to the bird's ankles, and nothing threatening emerged from it, Isla could taste a strange and familiar energy in the air. The bird again leaned down to quench its thirst, and Isla pulled on its reins harder than before. Her flamingo bucked at the rough handling and reared back, causing her to slip off and fall into the strange water. 

Isla gasped as various images flashed in her head. She couldn't make any sense of them. She thought she heard a group laughing--two older voices, and one younger. A family of some kind? Then she saw a bright flash of light. A scared voice cried out: "Hello? What's happening? Hello!" Terror seized Isla's chest as she scrambled out of the water and back onto her ride. The strange images vanished at once, bringing reality back into sharp focus. She clutched the flamingo's feathers like a lifeline. 

_Whoa..._ Wren breathed in amazement. _Did you feel that? It was like...a whole lot of knowledge and memories all squished together in the water!_

"I have no clue what it was, but we're getting out of here," Isla urged. "This place creeps me out." She flicked the flamingo's reins. The large bird seemed to sympathize with her urgency this time, and it took flight once again. As the wind picked up around them, Isla looked down at her clothes to see they were already dry. 

In the back of her mind, Wren began to sulk. _I liked it there_ , she argued, _I can't explain why, but I felt stronger..bigger when you stepped in that water. Why did we leave?_

"Um, because it was terrifying?" Isla replied. "And because we have another job to do." 

_Hmph. You know what I think? I think you're too afraid of power sometimes._

__

__

Isla scoffed. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

_Not much. Just if you stopped to think about it, Scarlemagne is one of the most powerful mutes on the surface. And he trusts you quite a bit. Maybe even more than Gerrard._

__

__

__"I _hope_ he trusts me more than Gerrard," said Isla. If their stations were reversed, she couldn't say she'd trust Gerrard to get a mask on without dropping and breaking it. But it wasn't just the power in that strange place that had scared her off. Something they couldn't see was living there. Isla felt like it had formed a connection with her. And she had enough trouble as it was without worrying about mysterious vision-inducing water creatures trying to say hi. _ _

__#_ _

____

Isla found her true quarry within a few hours--a small encampment set against a high rockface about a mile out of Scarlemagne's territory. Okay, perhaps "encampment" was a generous term. A sheet of metal (probably dragged from the dump) leaned against the rockface, and a small file sparked and smoldered nearby it. Isla gave a flick of the reins and brought the flamingo in to land. From the sky, she had seen the human milling about his meager fire. As she descended, he quickly tossed dirt on the flames and attempted to gather his few belongings to run.

 _Silly human,_ Wren giggled. _Should have just ran. You would have ran. You're a smart human._

 _Aww...you flatter me_ , Isla thought back as she dismounted.

The man found this action utterly terrifying, dropped all his belongings with a clang and a clatter, and tried to run away. "Try" being the operative word. He stumbled over his own feet and fell onto his knees.

"It's okay," Isla said, lifting the mask so it rested on her head. She raised her hands, keeping the flamingo's reins loose between her fingers. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The flamingo hissed and clacked its beaks as if to say, _I, on the other hand, will bite your head off if given the opportunity._ Isla tied its reins to a metal post embedded in the dirt and produced a pouch of feed from the pack around her waist. She poured the contents onto the ground and motioned for the flamingo to help itself. The bird's dual heads took turns eating but both still eyed the human with disdain.

He was a broad-shouldered man with thin blond hair and frightened blue eyes. He whimpered and stood. Slowly he backed up as Isla approached, though with the rocks behind him, he didn't have much of anywhere to back up to.

"It's okay," Isla repeated. "I'm a friend."

The man paused. "A-a friend?"

"Yes. But there are others looking for you. It's probably not wise to camp in such an open place." The mask began to slip, and she carefully readjusted it. The last thing she needed was for it to fall off and let Scarlemagne know exactly where she was. "Do you have other humans you could stay with? You'd be safer in a group than out here on your own."

The man frowned at this. Then he reached a shaking hand into his pocket and withdrew something, holding it out to Isla. She cupped her hands to receive it.

It was a photograph. The picture showed the man with fuller hair, alongside a brown-haired woman. Other people stood in the background, but the myriad of creases made it difficult to distinguish them. The photo was so worn, it felt like a thin piece of fabric in her fingers. She handed it back carefully. "Your...wife?" Isla guessed.

The man laughed. It sounded rough, like his vocal chords weren't used to making the sound. "No, no. My sister. We lived in a small burrow. A shelter, really. Not enough people and not enough know-how to build a full life underground. So we'd take turns coming to the surface to scout for food and supplies. It was my turn, and..." He chocked up a bit. "I thought I heard some mutes coming my way, and I didn't think...I just ran. Got lost. Days, maybe weeks. By the time I found my way back home, everyone had moved on." He sniffled a bit and slumped down against the rock. The worn photo he tucked carefully back into his shirt pocket.

Isla sat down as well, not too close for fear of scaring him off. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Frank," he answered. Then cautiously, he extended a hand.

She shook her head. "Probably best not to get your scent on me. But it's nice to meet you, Frank. My name's Isla."

"Isla..." He mulled over the name as he looked her up and down. "You must come from a really fancy burrow, dressed like that." He crossed his arms over his own strained and tattered shirt.

Now it was her turn to laugh. And it sounded equally awkward. "Trust me, the place I'm from...the nice clothes aren't worth it."

Frank rubbed the back of his neck and looked over his encampment. His belongings--a compass, some packaged snacks, and utensils, were scattered in the dirt. The embers of his fire still glowed warm and bright. In his rush, he hadn't exactly aimed the clumps of dirt well. "Does the place you're from let you have meals with strangers?"

 _Did he say meal?_ Wren asked.

 _He was not speaking to you!_ Isla mentally replied. To Frank, she simply said, "It's permitted as far as I know." She opened the pack around her waist and pulled out her rations. Then the two of them stoked the fire until the flames burned strong once again.

#

It had been a while since Isla enjoyed a meal without Scarlemagne barging in and demanding the diners dance upon the table. The food might have tasted like salty clay, but enjoying it in pseudo freedom made it an absolute delight. She and Frank did not talk too much more about each other, preferring instead to sit on opposite ends of the fire watching the dancing flames cast patterns of light on their faces. The sun was low but it was not yet dusk. She'd have to leave soon.

"I'll show you which paths are watched the least," she told Frank. "If you follow them, you should find yourself back in the safety of the city dump. Stay there and don't come back this direction again. You understand?"

Frank grimaced but nodded. Isla looked around them. The soft ground was peppered with footprints. She had assumed them to be Frank's and her own. But the boots of her uniform made a distinct pattern, leaving pricks in the ground where the thin heels touched. Her prints were quite few. Frank's were more numerous, but a few tracks had been made by someone with rather small feet (or at least smaller than Isla's). She looked at Frank's worn-down sneakers, covering feet that were distinctly larger than hers.

She pointed to the strange prints. "There's more humans here?" she asked out of curiosity, then immediately regretted bringing up the question.

Frank made a wavering kinda-sorta motion with his hand. "I've seen this girl a few times, but I don't know who she is. She's crazy quick, wears some kinda furry blue cape--"

Isla help up a hand. "You know what? Never mind. I don't need to know." She ate the last of her food, but the moment she swallowed, a sickening sound echoed in the distance. The screech of a flamingo. No...several of them.

Wren shivered, retreating to the back of Isla's mind. _He's coming! We're in so much trouble! He's going to find me and kick me out! He's coming!_

Isla wanted to be afraid along with Wren. But all she could think about was her failure. She hadn't helped Frank. She'd led Scarlemagne right to him. And if she didn't stand and play the part of his captor, turning him over immediately, they were both doomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for ending on a cliffhanger! The next chapter is well underway. I confess, I took a guess at Franc--erm, "Frank's" original name. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Isla took several deep breaths, though it sounded to her more like she was hyperventilating: in-and-out-in-and-out. It was bad enough trying to calm herself down. Trying to calm down Wren too was a painful double duty. The little mute rarely panicked, rarely even worried. But the real possibility of getting caught sent her into a frenzy.

 _Quick_ , Wren commanded. _Stand up! Grab his arms! Hold him still! Make that super-angry-face you make. And pull your mask down!_

"What's the point of making _any_ face with my mask down?" Isla hissed, only to realize she'd spoken to Wren aloud this time.

Frank cocked his head at her. "Huh?"

"Nothing," Isla replied. She had to think fast. It couldn't be over in a--she was loathe to use the phrase--snap like this. Surely she had some resource she hadn't thought of.

Isla paused from her anxious fidgeting as the silhouettes of the flamingos grew on the horizon. She wanted to slap herself. Of course she had a resource. She had one of the greatest resources against Scarlemagne in Las Vistas.

She crouched down, trying to look like she was cowering, just in case she slipped and spoke aloud again. _Wren, listen to me! I need you to split up!_

A wave of confusion passed through Isla's mind as Wren tried to contemplate the demand.

_Split up? Oh, no, no, no. I do not think so._

_You have to! Frank needs you--at least part of you--to stay safe!_

_Except...I only need one human. Not two. Split up? Never happening._

Another caw from the approaching flamingo. Isla's own flamingo screeched back as if to beckon it closer. Isla could hear the flapping of wings now. Frank hid behind a rock slightly smaller than he was and whimpered.

 _We're almost out of time! If you don't split, I'll--I spit you out right now!_ She couldn't believe she'd actually thought the words. She'd never tried to reject Wren before, but simply the fact that she could feel the mute in her mind and was aware of her abilities seemed to clue in her body's natural defenses. If she were to mentally classify Wren as a parasite rather than a symbiotic partner, out she would go.

Wren made an audible gasp in Isla's mind, but the little mute soon became surprisingly calm. _No, you won't. Because you know what will happen without me._

 _I-I..._ Even in her own mind, Isla struggled to form words.

 _I'm already small_ , Wren continued. _Compared to other mutes, I am teeny-weeny-itty-bitty. It's not fair for you to ask me to go half-size so you can save a human and feel better._

Isla wanted to argue that this wasn't about her feeling better. That she really did care about Frank and had his best interests at heart. But Wren's words rang too true for that argument. She felt guilty. Guilty for being the one with a defense.

 _If it means so much to you, I'll go over to him,_ Wren said. _I'll migrate for you. Is that what you want?_

"No!" Isla said aloud and covered her mouth, her hands shaking. She could tell from the proximity of the flapping--she had to either stand and put on a show or give up entirely. Nothing had made her give herself up before.

And, it seemed, nothing would now, either. Isla got to her feet.

"Isla?" Frank asked in a confused whisper. "What are you doing? Get down! We should hide!"

Isla turned to face the flamingos, wind whipping her hair back as she brought her mask down. "There's no hiding from this," she said solemnly. Then she lowered her head. "I'm sorry. I really am. I wanted to help you get away. But just know...you would have been caught whether I found you or another noble did."

She expected Frank to argue with her, to scream in rage at her for betraying him. But instead, as the two flamingos landed and their riders dismounted, he stood up and held up his hands. "I think...I see your point there," he said, his voice deep in defeat.

#

Isla led the flight back to Scarlemagne's palace. What else was she to do? Her two companions praised her quick and effective tracking skills while one of Scarlemagne's monkey nobles brought their catch to see the crazed mandrill himself.

Scarlemagne was in the music hall (where he almost always was), plucking a few keys experimentally when Isla, Frank, and Frank's monkey guard arrived. He slammed on the keys in irritation at being interrupted, but his mood changed quickly when he saw who had entered.

"Back already?" he said, clapping his hands. "Delightful!" He walked over to Francis, licking his lips like he was assessing a fine dessert. "You will do very nicely. Very nicely, indeed. What do you call yourself, human? Is it a name worthy of one of my nobles?"

Frank's knees were quaking so much, he could barely stand. The guard hoisted him upright. "F-F-Frank!" he managed to squeak out.

"Frank?" Scarlemagne spat out. "I'm sorry... _Frank?_ Did your parents name you after processed logs of meat? Did they think that highly of you, Frank?"

"I-I...they..." Frank stuttered.

Scarlemagne backhanded him. "Don't speak when I'm speaking! Your name is Francis now. You understand? Nod if you understand, Francis!"

He nodded emphatically.

Scarlemagne grinned. "You see how kind I am? How generous? I give you a place to stay, food to eat, and I even give you a better name." He pinched his newest pet's cheek. "You'll need dance lessons, of course. But we'll get there. If you behave, I'll even teach you the can-can. Wouldn't you like that, Francis?"

Before Frank could answer, Scarlemagne brought out his perfume bottle, attempting to spray a dab directly into Frank's eyes. The man tensed seeing the object come at his face so quickly, but only a sprinkle actually landed on him.

Scarlemagne frowned. "Who forgot to refill this?" he growled then broke into his signature giggle. "Oh, right. It was me! Because if any of you humans touched this, I would eviscerate you. Be right back, Francis. Don't move!"

Francis stiffened at the command. He might not have taken a big enough hit to be fully under Scarlemagne's control, but neither was he completely free from it. Once Scarlemagne had skipped out of earshot, Isla stepped in front of Frank one more time, their gazes meeting. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears she didn't dare release. "I'm sorry..." she whispered. "I really did want to help you. Instead..." She forced the words down.

"It's okay." Frank managed a smile. "I believe you. Really, it's okay."

It wasn't okay. Nothing about any of this was okay. But there was no more time. At the sound of Scarlemagne's returning footsteps, Isla returned to her position and straightened back to attention. Frank got a full whiff of the pungent perfume; his quivering expression turned to a forced, distorted grin. "Yes, sire!" he squeaked. "I would _love_ to learn the can-can!"

"Much better," Scarlemagne said with a grin. "Another job well done," he added, turning to Isla. "You're impressively capable for a human. Now show Francis the baths so he can clean himself up and get one of the tailors to measure him. He'll join us for the dance tonight."

"Of course," Isla said with a bow. "This way, Francis." Frank said nothing but kept right on eerily grinning as he followed her. She wasn't sure if the fully-controlled humans remembered their old names or not. She wouldn't forget, though. Until the time came he could remember on his own, she would remember for him. And the next time...

Isla swallowed hard. She'd had a perfect opportunity to help Frank. But she hadn't been willing to take it. Not at such a risk to herself. She hated how she always defaulted to her own safety. Her own security. What was the point of having a free mind if she never used it?

 _It's settled then_ , she decided. The next time a free human crossed her path, she wouldn't let her cowardice overtake her. She would help them, no matter what it cost.

 _Right..._ Wren teased in her mind. _You go right on telling yourself that._


	5. Chapter 5

Wolf lifted the lid of the simmering pot and stirred gently. A puff of fragrant steam swirled around her and even pulled a rare smile onto her face. The pot contained a mixture of non-mute insects, leafy greens, and some centuries-old powdered soup mix. High in protein, more than palatable, and the spot she'd found to consume them was completely uninhabited. Of course, that could mean all the mutes in this area knew something she didn't. But she'd be her own judge of danger. No relying on anyone else ever--not even inadvertently.

She'd scavenged some pretty good resources from the camp she'd found abandoned--a tent, some cookware, the aforementioned soup packets, and even matches. Not that she needed them. In the event she miraculously failed to start a fire with sticks alone, she was pretty sure that just bringing up memories of how her supposed family had betrayed her would conjure enough fury in her that she could just look at some kindling, and it would ignite under her glare. Even thinking about it now just...

Wolf gritted her teeth and hugged herself as the anger morphed into a deep sense of loss like it always did. No matter how many times she tried to push the memories away, they still reared back up at her. She wondered if she'd always be haunted by her younger self, the self that was stupid enough to believe mutes could be friends. Or family.

She took another bite of the stew she'd prepared and crunched down on a beetle with a nice juicy tang to it. Righteous anger ruined the taste of things.

When she'd eaten her fill--though not so much that it would slow her down in an emergency--Wolf covered the leftovers and watched until the fire under it became a cluster of low embers. Then, with her precious Stalky at her side, she laid down under the cape, the one that still smelled like her supposed mother, and fell asleep.

#

"No, no, no, NO!" Scarlemange slapped himself in the forehead. Fairly loudly. There was no possible way it didn't hurt. "I. Don't. Under. Stand!" he screeched as he waved to indicate the nearest female noble. She was a timid woman who shook whenever she drew his attention. "What is so complicated about this move?" Scarlemange demanded. He did a little spin and kick, seeming to forget once again that he and his nobles were different species, and ergo, any number of things--reach, flexibility, center of balance--could affect which dance maneuvers they could pull off and which they couldn't. Ilsa couldn't even count the number of humans (herself included) that he'd injured forcing them to perform routines that just weren't physically possible for them.

"N-nothing is complicated, sire!" the noblewoman replied. "Your demonstration was very straightforward!"

Scarlemange grunted at her assertion. He was all in favor of people flattering him, but thinking he was being outright lied to never ended well for anybody. The sun had already set, and normally all the nobles would be in bed by now. But Scarlemange had a way of forgetting the time of day when he was on a tirade.

"You, you, and you!" he said, pointing to Francis, Isla, and a nobleman Isla sadly did not remember the name of. "Your form was exceptionally adequate. You're dismissed for the evening. I have some…" He flashed a maniacal grin at the humans remaining. "...lessons to review with your under-performing peers."

Isla shuddered at the word "lessons," and even Francis in his fully-under-the-perfume-influence looked a bit on edge.

"I'm...sure the others will pick it up soon," he said once they were out of earshot. "Perhaps it's something vital to subduing other humans?"

Isla nodded absently. She got the sense Francis had always been an optimist, even before Scarlemange had taken his full autonomy away from him. It actually grated on her. Every time she looked at the man, she felt guilty for being the cause of his capture. If he could just get good and angry at her about it, her guilt might be appeased.

"Good night, Francis," she said simply and picked up her pace to the women's quarters. A quick glance back showed her Francis frowning, looking both confused and hurt at her quick dismissal. Guilt, guilt, and more guilt. But she needed her rest. Tomorrow, Scarlemange had her assigned to scouting duty. And she knew exactly which area she was going to explore. Those footprints she'd seen before the flamingos descended on her and Frank...another human had been in the area. Isla wasn't letting recent history repeat itself. This time, she'd warn, scare, threaten--whatever she had to do to get the human to leave as quickly as possible.

 _Oo, goodie_ , said Wren, sending Isla a mental image of a mute eyeroll. _Then you can fail at playing the hero again and feel guilty about something completely different!_

There were times Isla really wished she could reach into her own head and punch Wren in the face.

#

Someone was watching her. Wolf could feel it. She'd decided to spend the bulk of the next day in the same abandoned camp. After all, if she'd found one stash of supplies here, there was a decent chance with some exploring she'd find more. But a jog in a slowly enlarging circle around the main camp hadn't yielded any prizes--only the distinct sense she wasn't the only one out here.

If it was a large (or even not-so-large) group of mutes, Wolf would have run immediately. But every time she caught a glimmer of movement behind a rock or bush, the figure looked the same. Someone was aiming to steal from her. Someone who was alone. And she didn't take that lightly. She gripped Stalky, using the non-deathstalker end to move some of the campfire wood back into the heart of the flame. She kept her gaze forward but stayed alert to the corners of her vision. When the flickers of movement from the figure came close enough, Wolf pushed herself backwards, thrusting her weapon behind her. The figure gasped and jumped away, just barely escaping a nasty dose of poison. An impressive move, but now she was standing out in the open with no cover, nowhere to run, and as far as Wolf could see, she was weaponless.

Wolf pointed the business end of Stalky at the newcomer and looked her up and down. She was dressed in the most ridiculous outfit Wolf had ever seen. Was this what those weird mole people wore? Wolf had never met a mole person, but living underground 24/7 was the only explanation she could think of for why someone would be think wearing a frilly, bright-red uniform was a good idea. Why didn't this weirdo lady just write "eat me" on the back of the jacket to save time?

"What are you doing in my camp?" Wolf demanded. "Get out!"

The red-clad woman raised her hands in defense. Something rested on top of her head. It looked like a wooden mask, but with spaces for the eyes only. Creepy. "I'm here to warn you," the woman said. "This place isn't safe. You need to leave."

Wolf spat off to the side. "Yeah, right. You think no one's tried to pull that one on me before? If it's so dangerous, why don't you leave?" She twirled Stalky around in an impressive display of finesse before planting it into the ground, still with a strong grip to get it back into fighting position at a moment's notice.

"I--wish I could," the newcomer said. "But I can't."

Wolf raised an eyebrow. There was a new excuse. Or at least, the sad, longing tone that came with it was new. "What's the matter? Got a kid to feed or something?" Not that Wolf had any intention of sharing her stash, but she could at least sympathize with someone desperate to take care of family.

The newcomer shook her head. "Not exactly." She tapped the wooden mask. "There's a mute around here that's very powerful. He can control humans. Compel them to do whatever he wants. I'm not under his control at the moment, but he _can_ track me. I saw your footprints before. So I came here to warn you to get away as fast as possible."

Wolf stood still, unsure whether to take the newcomer's word and set to running or laugh in her face. No one had ever tried to pull...whatever this lady was trying to pull on her...before. It was ridiculous enough to be insane.

"You're hiding something," she said. "Or you're just crazy. I don't know which. Either way, I'm not going anywhere until I've used up enough supplies to carry the rest lightly. This is too good a stash to pass up." She made a mock-wave. "Thanks for your supposed 'warning,' though."

#

Isla had never been so insulted in her life. And she spent a regular part of each day being berated and insulted. But here she was, trying to help save this girl who clearly didn't understand anything, and rather than thanks, all she got her challenges to her sincerity.

Oh, you're angry, Wren thought. _That's a much different taste than your usual thoughts! I like it!_

"Shut up," Isla muttered.

The girl with the deathstalker tail pointed it even closer. "What'd you say, mask-face?"

 _"Mask-face"? Okay, that's it!_ Isla's fists tightened. "I wasn't talking to--you know what? I don't even care. Do whatever you like, you...you...paranoia person!" Insults had never been Isla's strong suit. She waved her hand dismissively and turned to walk away. If the girl wanted to risk her neck out here despite all of Isla's clear warnings, she wasn't going to feel guilty about that.

The "paranoia" girl chuckled. A bit loudly, actually. Isla turned to see that despite advancing several steps, the girl was no further away from her.

"Are you following me?" Isla demanded. "Why?"

"Maybe I'm after more food," Paranoia Girl said with a shrug. "You knew this stash was here. So it's not a bad bet that you know where others are, too."

Isla huffed. "Uh-huh. Either that or you want to see if my story was one big, crazy lie or not."

"It wouldn't be a bad consultation prize." She spun her weapon. "Look, if there's a mute out there like you've told me, I want to know everything about it. Where it moves, how it thinks, if it talks--"

"Oh, he talks," said Isla. "It's waiting for him to _stop_ talking that will try your patience."

"Uh-huh. And what's this mute call himself?"

Isla shuddered involuntarily, even as Wren also shuddered in her mind. "Scarlemagne. He calls himself Scarlemange."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: I have no idea how rare pianos are in Las Vistas or how likely it is that the Newton Wolves use them. I went with, "Very rare" and "they don't," which means this is probably the first time Wolf has seen one, too. I'm open to changing that detail if it reads oddly to you guys, though. Thanks for following the story!

Isla's first thought was to simply mount her flamingo once they reached it and fly off, leaving her unwanted traveling companion behind. The paranoid wolf girl clearly valued stealth, and a giant pink war bird was quite the opposite of that. She'd be angry, but she'd soon give up and hopefully leave the area.

Those plans were quickly derailed.

Flamingos, like most creatures, didn't do so well with deathstalker poison. And Scarlemagne had trained his birds to be as violent as he was. Which meant once the war bird caught sight of the wolf girl's weapon, it got the bright idea to open its beak and try to chomp down on the thing. The tip of the stinger touched its tongue before it could so much as land a scratch.

Thus, Isla was stuck with walking, holding the dazed bird by the reins while it dopily kept trying to go after the same weapon over and over. Eventually, it settled into a mild, less aggressive stupor, and Isla only had to give the reins a gentle tug once in a while to keep it following.

Thank goodness Scarlemagne had intended her mission to be a full-day affair. Otherwise, she'd be way off-schedule and have some serious explaining to do. No, scratch that. Otherwise, Scarlemange would have just sent another noble to hunt her down by now.

"Just to remind you..." Isla said as they got closer and closer to the palace. Paranoid Wolf Girl was still mere steps behind, alert and prepared to fight. "...in case you've forgotten, I mean. I think what you're doing right now is incredibly reckless and stupid."

Wolf Girl nodded. "Yep. Gathered that."

They continued several more steps in a frustrated silence. Wren lapped it up. The stupid little mute was going to stuff itself silly and leave Isla exhausted if she couldn't calm down.

"Furthermore," Isla continued. "I'd say you not only stand a decent chance of being killed, but the odds are even greater that you will be captured, robbed of your free will, and involuntarily contribute to making a psychopath's army even more powerful than it already is."

"Yep. Your mind-control thing. Heard about it." Wolf Girl crossed her arms. "Eight. Times. Already."

"I simply wondered if perhaps I miscommunicated during the first seven."

Wolf Girl sighed and slowed her pace. "Look, I get you're scared of this Scarlemagne guy. I believe you there, alright? But I make it a point to know all the mutes around me. I can't hide from something I've got no info on."

Isla, to her own annoyance, found herself slowing as well. But she'd tried several times already to outrun the girl and lose her. It was hopeless. Isla probably would have failed even without the stupid flamingo slowing her down. Despite Wolf Girl's small size, she never fell back and always kept Isla in her sights. Someone (or something) had taught her how to track. Very well. Which meant Scarlemange would adore her and Isla wasn't getting away from her. "And what's your plan if you can't stay hidden after you get your precious info?" Isla finally asked.

Wolf Girl huffed at the suggestion. "If I can't stay hidden, I deserve to get caught."

No one deserves that, Isla thought, resuming a normal pace again. The palace would be in view any moment now. Which meant…

 _Better pull your mask down_ , Wren teased.

Isla did so, the scent of the wood familiar as each warm exhalation into her own face.

"Can you breath under there?" Wolf Girl asked.

"It's not comfortable," Isla allowed. "But I've gathered the discomfort is intentional." She straightened and gave the flamingo a tug as they put the last towering rock behind them, and the palace finally came into view. The grand building was overgrown with trees and shrubs, but then, what place in Las Vistas wasn't? A haphazard archway had been carved out of its massive walls, making the inside visible even from a good distance away. Stained glass windows of various shapes and sizes stood at attention in every corner. Glimmering tiled floors remained impressively intact and clean. And once they got within a dozen yards or so, the musty scent of Scarlemagne's signature perfume permeated the place. Still too distant to affect anyone but present nonetheless.

Wolf Girl fell back and pulled her cape over her nose and mouth. "That smell...it's really faint, but it's making me nauseous."

"Watch what it makes people do, and then you'll really be nauseous," Isla muttered.

Wolf Girl made no comment and backed towards a large shrub, away from the entrance. Before Isla could comment, there was a sharp tapping of heels on the tiles, and Scarlemange's giddy voice rang out.

"Isla! Darling, is that you?"

Isla whipped towards the shrub. "He's coming! Quick! Hi--"

But Wolf Girl had already vanished.

"Oh. Well, then. Good job." She hurried towards her obnoxious captor before he got angry. "Yes, it's me, sire! I'm back from my mission. Though…" She looked at the bird behind her, which was staring at its own reflection in the floor tiles with complete bewilderment. "...I fear your flamingo may have fallen a bit ill."

#

Wolf scrambled up the jagged side of the palace wall. Already she was questioning her own sanity for coming out here. Was it really about getting more information at this point? Or did she just have to see for herself that the creature Isla described was real? Wolf knew how to outrun all sorts of predators. It was all about being faster, hiding better, and--when cornered--hitting harder. And since most mutes she'd run across didn't have an ounce of common sense, she usually did well against them. But this ability Isla had described...if it was legit, none of Wolf's normal tactics stood a chance against it. None of humanity's defenses stood a chance against it. How did someone fight without their will? Wolf shivered and watched as the mandrill mute Isla had described approached her and went off on a crazy tirade about...something. Wolf couldn't make out the exact words, and she didn't care get closer, but the mandrill gestured a lot to the flamingo. Isla bowed low several times in response, for which she got slapped across the face. Wolf gritted her teeth, her grip becoming iron-tight around Stalky's staff. If anyone tried that with her, she didn't care what the consequences would be. She'd hit them so hard, they'd never get back up.

Of course, that was easy to say viewing the whole scene from a place of safety. Wolf took several slow deep breaths through her cape, not daring to pull it down, and calmed herself. Watch. Observe. Use the information she gathered to survive. It was the only business she had here. She shifted her stance to avoid getting a cramp in her leg and watched as Scarlemange pulled a glass bottle from his ugly red jacket and sprayed the contents directly into Isla's eyes. The young woman staggered backward. Wolf forced back a gasp. No! Had Isla avoided Scarlemagne's control all this time, only to be overpowered by it now? It certainly seemed that way. Isla caught her balance, then got down on one knee and lowered her head once again. Scarlemange laughed and made a motion like he was beckoning someone far off to come closer. At this signal, dozens of men and women dressed as ridiculously as Isla, poured into the main room and paired off with each other. One of them took Isla's hand, and pulled her to her feet. The two stood eye-to-eye, waiting for their next command like they were toys.

Scarlemange pranced over to some kind of huge instrument in the back and made a dramatic show of beginning to play. The pairs of humans immediately started dancing. Eerie music echoed off every wall, chilling Wolf to her core. This was worse...so much worse than she'd planned for. She watched until she was sure some of the humans would have to stop or pass out, but they kept going--always in time to the ever-increasing tempo. Most of all, she watched Isla.

After several minutes, Wolf narrowed her eyes, her keen observation skills sensing a strange pattern.

Something was off with Isla. Scarlemange was too busy laughing and beating his instrument into submission to notice it, but the young woman's steps were always a fraction of a second behind everyone else's. Not only that, they were more purposeful than everyone else's as well. Like she was putting in an extra effort to show how well she could follow every order.

 _She's still not under his control? How?_ Wolf had assumed until now that Isla had somehow avoided smelling the perfume up close. Yet she was able to take a dose of it right to her eyeball and still be fine. Her obedience was an act. Scarlemange was only too full of himself to see it.

 _Whatever she's using to protect herself_ , Wolf thought. _I'm going to uncover it and use it._


	7. Chapter 7

After three hours of dancing, Isla fell asleep utterly exhausted. The night had been a haze of Wren constantly relaying orders amid the fog of perfume. When she awoke the next morning, she felt roughly like Scarlemagne had ended the evening by dropping his piano on her head. She sat up and stood very slowly, making her way to the corner of the room, where a lone water pitcher sat on a dented table.

"About time you got up," one of the other noblewomen said. Gertrude--that was her name. Isla had barely noticed anyone standing there. Not that she'd thought she'd been alone, but…

_Yeah, I ate a lot last night...you might be a bit wobbly today._ Wren sounded like an overstuffed mod frog. Wonderful. Well, that explained the headache.

"Really," Gertrude said, the teasing gone and a bit of genuine concern in her voice. "If you slept any longer, we thought we'd have to call for help waking you."

Isla shuddered. Well, at least she'd been lucky enough that Scarlemange had left them to their own devices this morning. What had happened with the Wolf Girl, though? Had she gotten away safely?

Isla sipped the water slowly, despite a desire to gulp it all at once. "There haven't been any reports of new humans roaming around, have there?"

"Hmm?" Gertrude cocked her head. "No, I don't believe so. Why?"

It was tricky to hide Isla's sigh of relief. "Curiosity, is all." She finished off the glass of water and quickly changed into the constricting red explosion of a dress. So began another typical day it seemed. At least until Isla and Wren caught the sound of approaching footsteps. They echoed over the stone floor, reaching the height of volume as Francis burst into the room.

"Gertrude! Isla! Come, you have to see this!"

"Francis!" Gertrude snapped. "This is the women's quarters!"

Wren giggled drunkenly. While Gertrude's statement might have been technically accurate, the men's and women's quarters were separated only a slim slab of marble. Nevertheless Scarlemange had ordered them to display great offense when someone from the other side came in unannounced.

"I--I-- That is…" Francis stammered. Scarlemange's brainwashing had done nothing to ease his jumpiness. The poor man took a few deep breaths before pointing behind him while averting his gaze. "There's something I found...strange pictures...beside the wall outside."

_Pictures?_ Now this was curious. Or at least it promised some break from the monotony. "All right," Isla said soothingly. "We'll be right out to come see."

Gertrude gave a little gasp of surprise. She wasn't used to going beyond the palace wall, even if it was just walking along the outside. Nor did she argue the point, either. Scarlemange's nobles did not argue in general.

The two women began to follow Francis when he stopped short. "Isla!" he said, shocked and pointing above her bed. "You left your mask!"

"Hmm? Ah, yes, how silly of me!" Isla said, running back and grabbing the awful thing. Wren let out another fit of giggles. _Oh, do hush up_ , Isla thought before joining Gertrude and Francis outside.

#

The three nobles cocked their heads at the drawings etched into the dirt. The ground here was hard and not very conducive to sketches. But these had been drawn with something sharp and resilient. A particularly pointy rock, perhaps. _Or the end of a deathstalker's tail._

"What does it mean?" Gertrude asked for the third time.

Isla didn't reply. The drawing showed four things: a deathstalker's stinger, two intersecting, perpendicular arrows, a rising sun, and a campfire. Isla narrowed her eyes. Was the sun rising or setting? If the arrows were a compass, the sun was next to the arrow indicating west. So...a sunset, then. _Wolf Girl wants to meet at Fran...at Frank's camp at sunset._

"I haven't a clue what it means," Francis said, fascinated. "That's why I called you two."

Isla looked over the drawings one more time, nudging the compass with the toe of her shoe and smudging it. If she feigned complete ignorance, Francis and Gertrude would simply ask someone else. She couldn't afford that. "It means there's other humans nearby," she said. "I'll speak to Scarlemange at once for permission to scout for them."

#

"Another scouting mission?" Scarlemange eyed Isla with suspension. "Isla, darling, didn't you return from one recently?"

"I-I...yes, sire," she said. Not good. The fully-controlled nobles never stuttered unless they were completely exhausted. Even then, it was out of a physical inability to speak while nearly passing out, not any inner debate about their words. Isla's palms began to sweat, a scent she felt sure Scarlemange could detect. The mute narrowed his eyes at her, staring through the gaps in her mask as she struggled to keep her breathing steady.

Finally, Scarlemange burst into laughter. "Well, then, this one had better be a success, hadn't it? Off you go!" And he waved her off, happy as ever. At least, Isla thought he looked happy. The random bursts of maniacal laughter made it difficult to discern between his happiness and his fits of utter insanity.

The trek out to the campsite was almost starting to feel routine to Isla now.

_Maybe if we ever get free, I could come live out here_ , she joked with Wren.

_You can live in a volcano for all I care, as long as you feed me_ , Wren replied.

Isla cocked her head as the flamingo began its decent. _What's a volcano?_

_If you ever get free, I'll tell you._

The flamingo landed before Isla had a chance to argue the point. She dismounted and tied it to stake in the ground as usual. It clacked its beak at her in return.

Isla looked around. The sun was about halfway through its decent on the horizon, throwing the landscape into shades of red and orange. The smoking smell of Frank's extinguished fire had long since faded, and the supplies around the site was noticeably thinner.

"Where…?" Isla scanned the area and spotted a small silhouette against the lowering sun. The Wolf Girl wasn't exactly at Frank's campsite; instead she sat perched on a rock within eyesight of it. Not the best hiding job, but then again, Isla wouldn't have found her otherwise. She left the campsite and started towards her. The ground in this direction was a strange mix of loose, sandy earth and pockets of standing water. And of course, Isla's riding outfit only came with fancy high-heeled boots.

"So you did come." Wolf Girl was almost smiling as Isla approached. _Probably not a good sign_ , Wren reminded her. Isla couldn't help but agree. She took several more cautious steps forward.

All at once, the ground gave out underneath her. Isla let out a cry of surprise. She tried to catch her footing, but no matter where she stepped, her feet sunk deeper. The sandy earth felt like it went from solid to liquid in seconds. Before Isla had a full grasp of what was happening, she was sitting waist-deep in sand, her outfit no doubt ruined, and her feet most incapable of dislodging themselves without help.

"What the--?" she gasped. "What is this stuff?"

"Relax. You won't drown in it," Wolf Girl reassured her, jumping down from her post and taking care to step on more solid ground. "You find patches like these around sometimes. You can't sink deeper than your waist. It's tough, but you can get out with help."

Isla held her arms out, though she quickly found there was nothing to brace herself on. At least, as Wolf Girl said, she wasn't sinking any deeper. "Are...you going to help me?"

"Sure," Wolf Girl replied. Isla almost breathed a sigh of relief until her follow-up: "After you answer some questions."

If Isla could actually reach one of her boots right now, she might be using it as a weapon. "This is how you repay me for warning you about Scarlemagne?"

"I don't owe you anything," Wolf Girl said with a shrug. "I was fine on my own, and then you came poking around, insisting I had to leave."

"I--" Isla started to argue, until she realized the Wolf Girl had made a fair point. "Well, you wouldn't have been fine if Scarlemange had found you."

"Agreed. So help me out here. Tell me what's protecting you from that mute perfume."

A shiver ran down the back of Isla's neck. "You could tell?"

"You kind of said as much when we first met, but yeah, I could tell. You don't dance quite the same as the others. You look like you still have control."

Now Wren mirrored Isla's shivering. _If she can tell, it's only a matter of time before Scarlemange can tell, too._

"Yes, thank you for that obvious statement," Isla muttered. Not quietly enough apparently.

Wolf Girl raised an eyebrow. "If it's such an obvious statement, why don't you try being a better actress?"

Isla groaned. if she wished to hide Wren's existence, speaking aloud to her surely wasn't the approach. "I understand why you'd want some form of immunity," she said. "But this isn't something I can share, and I don't think you'd want it if I could."

"Try me," Wolf Girl said, crossing her arms.

Isla tried to pull her leg up just a little bit in the sandy muck. It stayed submerged. Isla only succeeded in filling her boot with extra goop. For all the frustrations she'd had so far the past several days, this really shouldn't have phased her. But with Francis's constant reminders of her failure to help him, Scarlemange's roused suspicions, and exhaustion nibbling away at her best judgment, she finally broke down. "Oh, my mistake. I was under the impression you would dislike having a mute living inside your skull. Perhaps it intrigues you, hmm? Perhaps it sounds like fun?"

Wolf Girl's eyes grew wide, and her jaw slackened. She quickly regained her composure, looking over Isla with deep skepticism. "Hang on. You're telling me you've got a mute inside your brain who protects you from that crazy perfume?"

Isla nodded.

"And you expect me to believe you?"

"Well," Isla shrugged, "I was right about the mind-controlling mandrill, wasn't I?"

Wolf Girl made no change in expression over this, and Isla was starting to worry that she might simply get up and leave.

_If she does, you can always throw your mask off_ , Wren suggested. _The nobles will be on this place and rescue you in no time._

_I'd really rather not resort to that_ , Isla mentally replied. It was bad enough she'd ruined the riding uniform. She didn't want to know what would happen if she needed to be plucked from a mucky sand pit on top of it. As she shuddered over the possibilities, something prodded her in the side of the head--the non-poisonous end of the deathstalker staff.

"Are you grabbing on or what?" Wolf Girl asked.

"Oh! Um, thanks." Isla got as good a grip as she could manage, and Wolf Girl braced the staff against a rock, using the leverage to get Isla free enough to crawl the rest of the way. It was exhausting work for both of them, and they lay on their backs, catching their breaths and gazing at the specks of stars beginning to emerge in the sky. After a while, they made some quiet conversation: Isla on how Wren relayed directions to her and Wolf on the places she'd seen across Las Vistas (and how most all of them contained creatures that wanted to kill her). By the time they'd drifted off these oh-so-comfortable topics, the sky had grown dark, and they stared in awe at the fully visible array of stars.

"Sorry," Wolf Girl suddenly said, breaking the silence.

"Huh?" Isla sat up, surprised. She wanted to ask, _For which offense?_ but instead settled on, "You mean for trapping me in a sand pit?"

"Nah. If I don't trust someone, better to trap them in a sand pit until I do."

"Okay…" Isla pulled her boot off and poured the now-dry sand into a pile on the dirt.

"But I could have trusted you earlier, so...sorry about that." She stood and walked towards the abandoned camp. Isla followed, anxious to get to the flamingo before it learned how to gnaw through its rope.

"Anything I can do to help you get out of this?" Wolf asked. There was hesitation in her voice, more like the question came out of obligation. She might do something small, but she wasn't going to risk her own neck, either.

And neither would Isla expect her to. "I don't think so. But you could help keep other humans away from here."

"How so?" Wolf Girl rooted around the supplies left in the camp, found a large cloth sack and began gathering items into it.

"I don't know. Can't you...start a rumor or something? Discourage people from coming out here?"

"Start a rumor? I'm not exactly a social butterfly." She pulled the sack over her shoulder and looked around. The camp was now picked clean of anything useful. Which meant she had no more reason to stay and would be heading out soon. After carefully lifting and lowering the bag a few times to test its weight, she sat it on the ground and extended a hand to Isla. "I'll do the best I can, though."

Isla smiled and accepted the handshake. Another human she could genuinely call a friend? Today might have been a downright miracle. "Do you have a name? I mean, besides 'Wolf Girl'? Because that's what I keep calling you in my mind."

"You can shorten it to Wolf, if you want." Wolf broke the handshake and picked up her sack of supplies. It was rather bulky and didn't quite look like she could run easily with it. But then again, maybe "travel safely" had taken on a new meaning for the girl these past few days.

Isla smiled as she mounted the flamingo. "Wolf it is then. Best of luck to you."

"You too, Isla."

And with that, the flamingo took flight, and the two parted ways. The cool night air chilled Isla's skin as the bird picked up speed.

_I liked her...Wolf_ , Wren mused. _I hope we see her again. And if we do, maybe...maybe I could..._

The muscles around Isla's forehead tensed. Her eyebrows furrowed as if in immense concentration, yet she wasn't focused on anything in particular. A sudden fear seized her mind. Wren's fear.

_Oh, no,_ the little mute thought into her mind. _No-no-no-no-no!_

_Wren? Wren, what's wrong?_

No immediate answer. Wren was getting frantic. Finally, she managed to put some cohesive sentences together. _I...I was thinking about how maybe I could try to split for that Wolf girl...maybe it wouldn't be so bad, and--and--_

_And what? The thought of doing something nice made you panic?_

_No! I'm panicked because it doesn't feel like I can split anymore! It doesn't feel like I can leave your head at all!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, I was thinking of when Kipo and friends are talking about the mind-controlled Mega Monkey and Wolf says, "There are rumors of a mute who can do that." I thought it would be cool if Wolf herself was the one who started those rumors. :)
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed the fic so far. It's definitely not over, but I will be watching season two before I plot out any more of it. (I'm planning a marathon with my family over the weekend.)
> 
> Update: Well, I watched it. And this definitely requires some story re-arranging on my part. I've tweaked the ending on this chapter a bit, and the next chapter will be out tomorrow. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For returning readers, there's been some construction going on--trimming, re-arranging, a short new scene in what's now chapter 3, and a slight change to the end of chapter 7. No worries, though, none of it requires re-reading of the previous chapters. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

_I liked her...Wolf. I hope we see her again. And if we do, maybe...maybe I could...I...Oh, no. No. No-no-no-no-no!_

_Wren? Wren, what's wrong?!_

_I...I was thinking about how maybe I could try to split for that Wolf girl...maybe it wouldn't be so bad, and--and--_

_And what? The thought of doing something nice made you panic?_   
_No! I'm panicked because it doesn't feel like I can split anymore! It doesn't feel like I can leave your head at all!_

Isla froze. The flamingo went right on flying, but the landscape passed underneath her with her barely aware of it. It was a wonder she kept her grip on the bird and and didn't go tumbling out of the sky.

_You have to be mistaken. Of course you can leave._

_Try to spit me out! Try it! Come on!_

Isla was about to argue that this was a terrible thing to try up in the air, but if it would calm Wren down…she took several deep breaths and imagined Wren not as an ally but as a parasite in her brain. This should have triggered her body's rejection of the little mute and forced her out. But instead, all Isla got for her efforts was a headache. She focused again, harder this time, but again, nothing happened. She could even feel Wren struggling to leave.

By the time the bird landed back at Scarlemagne's palace, Wren's panic had all but consumed Isla's mind. Her breaths came far too fast, which led to her being dizzy, which led to her breaths picking up speed all the more.

Gerard approached to take the bird from her, and instead of dismounting, she fell off it and collapsed into a heap at its feet. The bird hissed in annoyance as Gerard struggled to pull it off where it wouldn't trample her. She could just barely make out the orangutan's confused voice as darkness consumed her. "Um...King Scarlemagne, sire? We hath a problem here! And it, um, art not my fault!"

#

Isla was dreaming. Or maybe she was standing in a memory? Her feet were cold as if they'd been buried in icy slush, and freezing water licked her ankles. She opened her eyes and looked down at first, then scanned the area all around her. Nothing. She was standing in this freezing shallow water and could see no land in sight from any direction.

"Well, well," boomed a disembodied voice. "What have we here?" At at once, the water at her feet began to glow a strange electric blue. The temperature rose steadily; the numbness in her feet receded. Isla opened her mouth to reply, but instead it was Wren's voice that came out.

"Who's speaking to us?"

"Calm down, little pup. Calm down," the voice replied. The gentle ripples in front of them shifted direction, briefly forming an eerie smile on the water's surface before returning to their natural flow.

Isla felt her throat, unsure of whose voice would come out if she spoke again. She could feel Wren struggling to make it hers. Well, if this was a mute they were dealing with, perhaps Wren would be the better communicator. Isla relaxed and let the little mute take control.

"Have we...met before?" Wren asked, staring through Isla's eyes where the face in the water had just been.

The deep voice gave a hardy laugh, which echoed despite the lack of visible walls. "Oh, it doesn't take much for two mutes like us to connect, little pup. I've seen you pass through my territory on your travels a few times. And I might have even passed through yours on one occasion. But that's on me for not saying a proper 'hi' I suppose. I confess, when I first sensed you nearby, I thought I might be dreaming myself. I was so sure I was the only one of my kind."

"Only one of...wait, are you saying...you're a tardigrade mute? Like me?"

"Indeed. You may call me Tad."

"Me too!" Wren replied excitedly, then shook her--or rather, Isla's--head. "Um, I mean...don't call me Tad. I mean I thought that, too. About being the only one. Call me Wren. The human I'm living in named me."

The water level rose slightly, and the current moved a bit faster. The temperature was now warm and soothing. Wren liked it. She thought Isla liked it, too. This was certainly strange (and pleasant) being the one in control. She eagerly turned Isla's head to take in the vast stretch of water around them. "Is this...all of you?" she asked Tad. "You're so big!"

"Me too!" Wren said excitedly. "I thought that, too! But is this...all of you?" Isla's head turned at Wren's command to take in the vast stretch of water around them. "You're so big!"

The voice chuckled. "Well, I will take that as a compliment, friend. Now, what can I do for you?"

"Do?" Wren cocked Isla's head in confusion.

"I heard you crying out like you were scared. So I connected with you to see if I could help."

Excitement, shared by Isla and Wren both, welled up in her chest. "Can you tell us how to separate? I've been in this human's head a while, and when I tried to leave a few minutes ago, I couldn't."

"Hmm...time is a relative thing. How long is your 'a while', pup?"

Wren had to think about this a moment. "I don't know, really. At least a few months. So can you help us?"

The current slowed, the temperature lowered, and the electric blue water took on a deeper, sadder tone.

"I am sorry, little friend. But I'm afraid us tardigrades just aren't meant to stay in human brains so long. We're made to flow and move like the water, not to stagnate."

Wren didn't know what "stagnate" meant. Isla struggled to form words and explain it, but she remained only a spectator in the back of her own mind. "So what can we do then?" Wren asked Tad.

"If you mean what can you do to change your current situation, I'm sad to say there's not really anything. You and your host here will have to learn to live with each other. But--" The color of the water brightened a bit. "--if you're asking me what you can do with your life in general, well, I believe that door is open to all sorts of possibilities."

It was a nice thought, but in practice, it felt hollow. This couldn't be happening. What possibilities existed for a mute without her own body? Wren already felt kind of bad moving and speaking through Isla. Especially when avoiding this sort of control was the exact reason Isla let Wren into her head to begin with.

"You mustn't fret too much," Tad continued. "You need to look at the positive in the situation."

Wren failed to see any positives, but she did make her best effort to brainstorm some all the same. Buried somewhere behind her, she could feel Isla's mind working towards the same goal. There wasn't any anger for Wren taking control. Well, not yet. Isla still had trust that Wren would hand control back when this conversation was done. And with that trust came another surprisingly optimistic thought.

"I guess...now that we can't be separated, that means we don't have any reason to be afraid of Scarlemagne. We could...we could leave if we want. Wait... _is_ that what we want?"

Confusion swirled within Isla and Wren's shared mind. On one hand, Scarlemagne had always been a source of fear for them both. On the other, the worst thing he could do--separate them and use his puppet pheromones on Isla--was no longer possible. The duo had always been valuable for their competency. Would he value their services enough to keep providing this body with food and shelter, even when he could no longer control it?

At this thought, Isla summoned enough emotion to push her words into Wren's consciousness. _Hold on! You think I'm going to volunteer to stay in Scarlemagne's army?_

Wren huffed. _If_ we _volunteer, it'll be a decision between both of us. We shouldn't take the possibility off the table._

_Yes, we should! He's enslaving humans!_

_I hear what you're saying, and I understand that as a human, that upsets you. But as a mute, it's not so much a deal to me. I'm after safety and nourishment first. What's_ your _big plan for survival if we leave?_

_I...that is, um… I would…_ Isla's thoughts receded as neither good ideas nor good retorts came to her.

Meanwhile, Tad hummed to himself as he mused, either oblivious to their argument or indifferent to it. "Scarlemagne…" he said slowly. "Scarlemagne...that name sounds familiar...I think I met him before. Though he called himself something else, then. I made a wonderful dream for him. One of my best works, in fact. Do you want to see the memories I pulled to make it?"

Wren felt mildly interested, though not intrigued by this offer. Isla's curiosity, on the other hand, burned bright and strong, allowing her a brief moment to speak. "Yes, please. We want to." _Once Wren sees how twisted and terrible Scarlemagne's mind really is, she'll realize there's no way we can stay. I know she'll understand._

The ripples in the water formed a smile once again, and for a brief moment, the strange world around them went dark. Then Isla and Wren heard a voice--a very young voice--speaking.

"Hoo...go. Hu...go. Hugo!"

Two older voices gasped and started speaking at once. "Hugo…that's right!"

"That's your name! You did it!"

"Welcome to our world, Hugo!"

Isla's optimism soured. So far this was not panning out how she had hoped. Not at all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait for this final chapter. I was really struggling with how to bring the story to a close. I still wanted to end it before Kipo emerges on the surface, without contradicting anything from the canon, but I also wanted it to be open to future stories about Wren and Isla. (Yeah, I put way too many requirements on myself.) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. I'm super ready to be inspired by the final season in a few days. Hopefully this fic stands as a good origin story for Wren and Isla with more stories to come in the future. My other fic will be updated with its final chapter tomorrow. Thanks for reading!

By the time the vision stopped flashing in front of her, calling up one miserable memory after another, Isla felt ready to be sick. Wren shared that feeling to a certain point. Unlike Isla, however, she wasn't quite so shocked at the appalling behavior of the humans in Scarlemagne's memories.

 _Well, I can see why he doesn't like you_ , she sighed. The little mute had retreated to the back of Isla's mind once again, giving her control over their shared mental space. How long the truce would last was anyone's guess.

"Me?" Isla asked. "I didn't do anything to him."

_Ugh. This is the one thing you humans don't get. Mutes don't see individuals so much. They see groups. If one member of your group insults or attacks another, it's the same as if everyone in that group had attacked._

"But that's not fair," Isla objected. She got an image of Wren shrugging. For as much as the little mute could shrug.

_Fair or not, it's how things are out here. So now we need to make a decision._

"Indeed," Isla muttered. She still didn't like the idea of laying all their cards on the table in front of the very mute she'd been hiding from all this time. But perhaps if he saw the two of them as a single entity--not quite mute and not quite human--they might stand a chance of gaining his respect? With the army Scarlemagne was amassing, having a bit of his respect could be extremely valuable...

She held her head. "No! We're not negotiating with him. Not after everything he's done!"

Wren huffed but did not argue. Not yet anyway. But Isla had the uneasy feeling the mute was simply biding her time.

#

 _We're "not negotiating" with him? Yeah, right. You mean_ you're __ _not negotiating with him. I didn't get any say at all!_ If Isla heard Wren's frustrated musings, she didn't respond to them. And it was just as well, really. Wren had been putting a lot of thought into this new and unprecedented situation the two of them had found themselves in. If they tried to compromise on every little thing, life was going to end up being a constant struggle. No firm decisions would be made on anything; everything they didn't agree on would have to be a middle-of-the-road solution. And what kind of life was that?

No life at all, Wren decided. Which was why she had to take a bold move. With just the right timing, she could make life much better for both of them.

#

As per his usual, Scarlemagne called all of his humans out onto the ballroom floor that evening. His fingers flew across the piano keys, playing an old tune that started deceptively slow. In truth, it would end as one of his fastest pieces. Which meant Isla would have to concentrate hard not to miss any steps.

Which, in turn, meant Wren had much more opportunity to catch her off guard.

Wren let Isla dance as normal for the first half of the song. Then, after a minute, the tempo picked up, and Wren made her move. She put all her focus into gaining control of this body. Isla's foot stepped backwards when it was supposed to step forwards. Left when it meant to go right. It took all of the human's efforts not to trip over herself and collapse.

 _Stop. Stop...doing this!_ Isla mentally screamed. Two more missteps. Several humans had slowed to watch the strange display.

_Agree to strike a deal with Scarlemagne, and I will._

Isla wasn't even dancing anymore. Yet sweat dripped down her arms and forehead as her inner struggle continued. _Strike a deal with_ him __ _? Yeah, right. Over my bruised and battered body!_

The humans circled around them now. The music had stopped. Isla was gasping for breath.

Wren didn't want to take things this far. But what other choice did Isla leave her? _Fine. If you insist._ The human's limbs stiffened, refusing to move, caught in a mental tug of war between two wills. The strain was painful, and Wren guessed even Isla's muscular body would not put up with it for much longer. And, as usual, she was right.

#

Scarlemagne usually didn't think too much of it when his nobles passed out. It was a natural consequence of their human weakness, after all. But when he stepped up to Isla, locking eyes with her right before she slipped out of consciousness, he was struck by the fear and panic in her eyes. There was certainly no smiling as there was from the other nobles. And he knew he'd given her a healthy dose of pheromones before the dance. No, whatever was going on with her, it was stronger than his compulsion. The concept both intrigued and unnerved him.

He ordered Isla's cot brought out by the piano, so he could keep an eye on her while composing some tunes. He dismissed the rest of the nobles, gathered the sweat he'd built up thus far, and experimented with a few chords.

It was an hour later, perhaps two, when Isla finally came to. Scarlemagne watched curiously as his prized noble sat up and looked around disoriented. With a trembling hand, she pressed her fingers against her throat as if to feel her own vocal chords move while she spoke. "Look, I'm sorry I took over, all right? But you left me no choice. I don't want to just be a voice in your head forever!"

Scarlemagne startled; something even he had to admit he did not do easily. Isla's sharp high-pitched tone was nothing like the way she usually spoke. Curious, he continued to watch the strange conversation with herself play out.

"I'm not asking you to!" she shouted in her more normal voice. "But you can't take over and speak through me whenever you feel like it!"

"So I can only speak when you feel like it?" The high-pitched tone again. "Isn't that convenient for you? But if I can't leave and your body is the one with the voice, how else am I supposed to talk?"

"We'll think of something, okay? Just...stop!"

"You mean be quiet and let you be in charge but still do all the good stuff like protect your mind? Ugh, I should have known better than to get involved with a human!"

His interest piqued, Scarlemagne finally decided to step into the conversation. "Do pardon me," he said, assuming she would catch onto his facetious tone. Really, the way she barely noticed he was there was already quite rude. Or perhaps thinking of Isla in the plural was more appropriate? There did seem to be multiple entities in question here.

"I don't mean to interrupt this little disagreement you seem to be having with yourself, Isla..." he smiled. "...or is it with someone else? I feel as if I'm left out of something. Care to enlighten me?" He held up one of his perfume bottles, but Isla (or whatever was speaking through her), turned up her nose.

"Aren't you running low on that stuff, your highness? Are you sure you want to use it on me when it won't even work?"

Scarlmagne narrowed his eyes. "Explain yourself."

Isla forced a laugh and got to her feet. "It only works on primates, corrects? Isla might fit that description, but I'm afraid I don't quite qualify."

Scarlemagne lowered the bottle, his hand shaking slightly, though he hid it well. "What are you?" he demanded.

Isla's laugh morphed into a rough cough. "I don't think either of us know right now. I am a mute, and Isla is a human, and now we're stuck in the same body."

It was ridiculous. The entire concept. Scarlemagne should be backhanding his noble for concocting such an insane story. Except...he knew all too well all the strange things that could happen in this world. He'd gone from being a stupid animal to the de facto ruler of Las Vistas. He'd begun life as little more than a pet and now he was poised to rule over everything. Was the idea of a mute and a human sharing a single mind really so farfetched in comparison? "I see," he finally said, setting the perfume bottle back on the piano. "You may accept my mildly sincere condolences. So you are immune to my powers, then? I'm surprised you don't attack me, after everything I've put you through."

"Hmm. A fair point. Though you could say we've become a bit sympathetic." Isla--or whoever Scarlemagne was now speaking to--lowered her head. "We must apologize. We saw some of your old memories. Tad Mulholland gave them to us."

"Tad Ma--" Rage filled Scarlemagne in an instant. Not a sensation he was unfamiliar with, but the frustration this time was all the greater. He remembered the strange mute he'd encountered all those years ago. And he also remembered the fact that the creature would forever remain one of the few in Las Vistas he held no sway over. So now not only was he angry, he couldn't even direct his fury properly. He'd have to take it out on Gerard later.

"The memories were scary..." the voice speaking for Isla went on. "...because they reminded me of when humans hurt me, too. They wouldn't let me eat...I almost starved...even Isla only let me in so I could protect her. And I know she still wishes I wasn't here."

For a moment, Scarlemagne stiffened. There were so few around him who knew of his humble beginnings--how he'd fought and crawled his way to the top after his supposed family had abandoned him. In a way, he wanted someone else to know. He wanted another to share in his frustrations, his fury, to confirm what he'd learned the hard way--that humans were incapable of seeing mutes as superior or even equal. They would always fight for their own and no one else. One day, he would share all this with someone. But it wouldn't be some random human. His adopted sister...she was the only one who would understand. Until the day he found her, those memories would stay locked away. "Be that as it may," he said with a forced calm. "You would do well never to speak of any memories of mine you saw."

Isla bowed. "I understand. But tell me, what's your plan when you take over? What will our home look like?"

"I…" Scarlemagne was taken aback. This mute speaking through Isla certainly liked to jump around topic. "I believe I've given a speech or two about it in the past. My utopia for mutes. A golden city of dreams and what have you." He raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I want to be part of it. I want to keep being a noble, Scarlemagne. And I think, deep down, Isla wants it, too."

"You say Isla is separate from you. What do I call you, then?" Scarlemagne motioned to the very human-shaped body the little voice was coming out of. She curtsied properly this time.

"My name is Wren, sire. And I'm looking forward to working with you."

"And Isla?"

"She's a bit in denial, but at the end of the day, we more or less want the same thing."

"And what's that?"

"To be close to power."

#

By the time Isla regained some control once again, the deal was already struck. Scarlemagne would continue to let her and Wren stay in the palace as one of his higher-ranked nobles. If Lemieux or Gerard balked at the idea, well...they really didn't have any say in the matter, now did they? And when Isla had calmed down enough to consider their situation...a place to stay, good food, and even a sliver of authority, she couldn't deny she had things much better than she did before. All it had cost her was a tiny bit of turning her back on humanity. And as Wren had been so quick to point out, she wasn't exactly fully human anymore.

Isla couldn't quite tell if these thoughts were entirely her own or if her views and Wren's had begun to blend together. No matter. They shared this body now and all its decisions, both good and bad. Whatever the future held, they were in it together.


End file.
